


Prayers

by nekoshojo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Flashbacks, M/M, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 17:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/664558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekoshojo/pseuds/nekoshojo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Purgatory was different. Praying there was an exception. But somehow he got used to it; and since Castiel is back on Earth why not continue talking to him every night?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prayers

**Prayers**

It was quite humiliating he told himself. It was weak and embarrassing and he knew that should Sam find out he would have to kill someone or something – or maybe even himself. But he just couldn't help it, this kind of thing – _their_ kind of thing – had become a habit he had never thought possible.

Dean lifted the blanket and tried to sneak out of the bed to get to his duffle bag. Like every night since Castiel got back from Purgatory his heart pounded in his chest, being afraid to wake his little brother. Sure, he could come up with a simple explanation like _"I couldn't sleep and wanted to drive around for a little while"_ or _"I'm just thirsty, gonna buy something"_ but he just didn't want to lie to him anymore. Lie about this thing. Lie about anything he cared about in general.

After putting fresh clothes on and tying his boots he grabbed the keys for the Impala from the small table beside the front door and shot a last glance to the other side of the room where his younger brother still slept in peace. The door creaked quietly as Dean opened it and stepped outside. The both of them where in a little motel on the road to Illinois, the street was empty, no cars were being seen or heard, just the sound of crickets in the little clusters of grass and bushes and just the lights of the streetlamps, the motel billboard and the stars above him. The gravel beneath Dean's boots gnashed under the heavy steps he made on the way to his car.

Once he seated himself on the driver's seat he sighed and closed his eyes, steadying himself. "Cas?," he asked with determined voice. "You got a minute?" It just took two seconds until he could hear the faint sound of wings flapping. His lips curled into a smile and he turned his head to look at the blue-eyed angel who was sitting next to him in the shotgun seat.

"You're calling late tonight," was Castiel's short greeting, his face with worried expression. He was right, usually he would have sneaked earlier outside to meet him but there were always these interference factors, you know?

"Yeah, Sam just didn't want to go to bed. Dunno why. Maybe it's full moon tonight," he joked.

"Dean, you have to tell him, eventually," Castiel replied with a stern voice.

"What should I tell him? That I'm talking to you every night because I got used to it in Purgatory? The hell I'll do."

Castiel rolled his eyes over Dean's stubbornness. God knew he would do anything for this human but this character trait wasn't one of his best and was unbelievably annoying. "I'm just saying that I think you should tell him. You know, lying to each other never ended well in the past."

Dean stared at him, considering, his eyes swayed from Castiel's right to his left eye and vice versa until he finally broke the gaze and blew air through his nose, defeated. "Fine. I'll tell him, _eventually_."

The angel nodded slightly and turned his head to look out of the windshield. The faint motel lights lit up his face and Dean could sense that Castiel was lost in thoughts, having a little frown on his forehead. "We never talked about it," he almost whispered.

"About what?"

"About the things you told me in your prayers back then in Purgatory."

Green eyes widened by the sudden terror and realization Castiel's statement awakened in him. He inhaled sharply the warm, stale air of the Impala, could feel how his heart beat speeded up. "There's nothing to talk about, Cas. Just leave it alone." The last thing he needed was a chick-flick moment with a fallen angel of the Lord. Seriously.

"I can understand that this place was pure to you, … _honest_. But I just can't comprehend why you can't be honest with yourself here on Earth, Dean." Castiel's eyes rested on his face again, appeared to study every expression the human made. Somehow he should be used to it but now it was intimidating because he knew he didn't have an answer for it, he just didn't know why.

"Here are other things I have to worry about. Sam, Kevin, Crowley, the friggin' word of God. I don't have the time for psychotherapy," he explained badly and was aware that Castiel could see behind the curtain, unfortunately.

"But you have time to talk with me every night." And there it was.

"Look. Purgatory was different," Dean drifted his gaze to the car dashboard in front of him, closed his eyes and sighed. "It was just… different."

* * *

"Benny! Come on!" Dean screamed after his companion as he reached a little cave, panting. The both had just gotten out of an ambush of werewolves and had managed to save themselves through the compact wood and into a hidden little den. They were standing tightly against the cave wall and waited for about five minutes, waited for their enemies to come closer and attack, and as it became clear the two of them was out of danger, the tension in their muscles drifted away and their heart beat became normal again.

"That was fucking close," the vampire whispered, relieved. Dean looked into the dark of the den, he couldn't see anything in there, it was just too dark inside and outside. The nights in Purgatory were almost like the Earth ones, it was dim and colder than the day but there were no stars or moon.

"You think we can rest here?"

"We can try. You want to sleep first?" Benny asked him with tired eyes. Sometimes he wondered himself if Benny accompanying him here in Purgatory was one of his best ideas because now he was a target, too. Dean could see that it drained him, but he also knew that the vampire would do anything to leave this damn place. Anything.

"No, go ahead. You look like crap," the green-eyed human offered, "I'll just… you know."

"I know," the older one grinned. "Go and phone your angel. You're pretty obsessed. If we hadn't been searching for him we could've already escaped from here." He moved inside the cave until Dean wasn't able to see him anymore, looking for a safe place to lay down a bit. "And please, just lower the volume, my hearing isn't the worst, you sure know that."

Dean didn't reply anything anymore; he was getting used to the vampire's mocking and didn't care what he was thinking. It was strange but this whole place changed him on the inside; he didn't care, he was honest, it was pure. Benny agreed on this, too.

He took a few steps toward the cave entry, looked into the dark silence the wood gave him. His attention went to the dark blue sky and he sighed. "Cas?," he spoke under his breath, trying to be as quiet as he could, "I hope you can hear me." Dean slid down the cave wall to sit on the cold and dirty stone ground.

With his eyes closed he wrapped his arms around his tucked up legs, tried to brace himself for his prayer. He just wanted to tell the angel everything, it was like he couldn't bear it to hold back all these emotions and facts and dreams and hopes. It hurt.

"I really hope you can. Benny and I, we got attacked by werewolves but don't worry. I'm fine. We're in a cave now. So when you can, please, come here," Dean opened his eyes and looked around, waited painfully for the sound of two wings approaching. But it never came.

With a muffled thud his head tapped against the stone behind him, he swallowed hard. "Okay, I guess you're busy with surviving then, huh? You know what? It's funny how Purgatory changed me. You know that time I told you about how it is to be me? About being 90% crap? The guilt and the sorrow deep inside me, trying to save the world, trying to be a hero?," he whispered.

"But somehow the only thing I care about here is surviving to find you and bring you back home with me. There aren't demons I have to care about, just these cute monsters here and there, not that big deal, you know? And there aren't other people I have to save. I just have to save _you_."

He lifted his dirty left hand to stroke through his short hair, pulling himself together. He didn't even know if Castiel could hear these prayers, he didn't even know if he wanted him to hear all of it but he couldn't help himself. He had to pray. He needed the faith and the hope of Castiel hearing them. Believing that because of his prayers Castiel would find his way back to him. Like he always did on Earth.

"I won't go without you, Cas. You hear me? I fucking need you. I… _dammit_." He paused and felt his heart pounding painfully in his chest. His mouth was dry all of a sudden. Since when did he become such a girl? "I… I need you to be alright. I can't go on without you. I fucking lost you three times already. I need you to be okay. I need you."

After a short pause he chuckled to himself and smiled. "Look at this whole mess, Cas. Look at me. I'm sitting here praying to you that I need you. What have you done to me? What has Purgatory done to me?" He closed his eyes again and a mental image of Castiel popped up in his mind. He could almost stare into two depths of ocean blue eyes.

The pain in his chest got worse, as if some piece of his heart was missing and cried out loud for it to return. He didn't only need him; he couldn't even live without him anymore.

He thought about Castiel's dark voice which could bring him peace every time he called his name, about a firm hand with slender fingers on his shoulder that was like an anchor to his unstable self.

He remembered the angel's little head tilt when he tried to figure something out, how badass he was when he smote demons. How hot he looked when he was pissed and how protective he could be.

And he missed this expression of pure love on Castiel's face when he just looked at him.

There it was again: Pure. His thoughts were pure. His emotions were clear as the water of a fountain. He knew what he was thinking, what he was feeling – but he wasn't ready to tell Castiel. And he definitely didn't want to do it in a prayer of which he didn't even know if it would reach his angel.

So he ended his prayer like every night. "Cas, stay strong, you hear me? I'm coming for you."

* * *

"Dean?" Castiel brought him back into the real world. "What are you thinking about?"

He clenched his teeth together and tightened his jaw, trying hard to avoid Castiel's inquiring gaze. "Nothing. It was really… nothing," Dean stammered, could almost feel those blue eyes staring at him, searching for an answer his angel already knew.

After what felt like an eternity Castiel turned away, and Dean could sense the air thickening. He didn't want to talk about this, not now, not ever, but Castiel would never back down, he knew that.

The angel's shoulders straightened and he sighed audible. "When you prayed, you didn't send words only. There were also-," he paused, looking into his lap where his right hand played with his left thumb. A habit he formed a while ago, only doing this while being nervous. After clearing his throat he continued, "uhm.. pictures and thoughts."

Dean's heart stopped for a moment, realizing the full dimension of the impact the angel just said. He tore his green eyes away from Castiel's busy fingers and swallowed hard; wet his dry lips with his tongue. "Re-really? I… I didn't know that."

After a few moments of silence Castiel raised his hand and rested it against Dean's right shoulder. He twitched slightly under the touch and released the breath he didn't know he was holding; he looked up to the angel's face and found a smile there. His ribs rose and sank under a deep breath.

"I needed you, too, Dean," Castiel confessed, his voice almost a whisper. "I needed your prayers to keep going. – And I still need you now."

The next moments were hazy like a dream and Dean could only sense the two of them, staring at each other. He wondered if Castiel could hear his heartbeat because, fuck, it pounded loud. "Cas, I-"

"Shht. It's okay, Dean," Castiel whispered while closing the gap between the human and himself. "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to. You can even pretend that those prayers never happened, that you don't have these feelings. But… I would love it if you would consider not to… because you would miss _this_."

Green eyes observed every move the angel made. How he bent over and braced himself on the backrest of the Impala, how he ignored his personal space, as usual, and leaned in, how soft Castiel's lips were as they touched his.

And how it was over before he could react.

With widened eyes he looked at Castiel as he was already on his side of the car again. He raised his eyebrows and looked down; his mouth fell open although he didn't know what to say. The blood rushed in his ears and there was heat crawling up his face. _Castiel had just kissed him._

He cleared his throat; he knew he had to say something but he couldn't think. Castiel sat beside him, waiting for a reaction, he knew it; but he just couldn't. Instead he began to grin and laugh. This whole scene was fucked up and he just had to laugh to himself.

"You know, stealing myself out of the motel room to meet an angel in the Impala just to make out with him… I don't know but this sounds kinda 'Casa Erotica' to me."

Castiel frowned and tilted his head. It was clearly not the sentence he had hoped for. "Casa Erotica?"

Dean chuckled at the sight and felt the warmth inside his stomach grow. He took a deep breath and thought about what Castiel said, maybe… "Maybe I can stop pretending when we're here alone," he breathed with a smile.

The angel beamed at him and Dean knew he understood. Now it was on him to bend over, to lean in, to cup the back of Castiel's head with his hand and push in close. Pressing his lips against the angel's, kissing him like it would be his last night on Earth.

***

It wasn't Purgatory and he couldn't be as honest as he should or wanted to be but he could let it go even if it was only for an hour in the middle of the night, when nobody was awake and not a living soul was around. He could forget the sorrow and the burden on his shoulders while having his angel's hands clinging to them, anchoring him. His heart cried for more, called for this missing piece he had finally found in Castiel, never to let it go again, never to lose it again.

He would still sneak out of the motel room every night, slid into the Impala and pray for Castiel. Wanting to talk to him, to hold him, to kiss him. Wanting to tell him every little secret he had never told him, wanting Castiel to know him completely, to feel him.

He wanted this – _their_ thing – to be honest. To be pure. Even outside of Purgatory.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so insecure about this thing. But it's one step closer to Improvement. ;_;  
> I'm thankful for my beta reader, [Chiyume](http://chiyume.tumblr.com)! Thank you, hon! <3


End file.
